


Telepaths Anonymous

by Not_A_Monkey



Category: Twilight Series - All Media Types, X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Mutants, Vampires, Young Charles Xavier, telepaths
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-02
Updated: 2013-06-02
Packaged: 2017-12-13 17:44:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/827047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Not_A_Monkey/pseuds/Not_A_Monkey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of the time that Charles met Edward in New York and somehow gained something from it.</p><p>Or</p><p>Edward Cullen is hunting in New York, and young Charles Xavier tries to save a murderers life, and learns about his mutation along the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Telepaths Anonymous

**Author's Note:**

> This is a crossover fic.  
> There is one swearword, there are references to blood, death and rape, however nothing is really discussed in horrific detail; but mentioned from a detached outsiders perspective after looking at a rapist murderer's memories. Please don't read if that will offend you. Hopefully it won't.  
> This is not crack, but my mind is.

Charles was more than a bit afraid. He heard things sometimes, things that nobody said aloud and yet he still heard them. At first he had answered the question, had acknowledged what people were saying. It happened so sporadically to begin with it that all seemed normal. But soon it became more frequent. What the adults and other children had brushed off as his intellect or that they had voiced their thoughts, soon transformed into negative feelings and thoughts whenever they were around him. Nothing was ever acknowledged aloud, and in most cases not even in peoples’ heads. However, people seemed to think that his smarts were too much for a young boy of ten. And then when they started shying away from the insightful child who didn’t understand what was wrong, things really only started to get worse.

He was a genius, and so he had some theories behind it all. Suspicions no one could put into words. Charles started to become more terrified of the consequences. His mother, now married Kurt Marko, didn’t seem to understand when Charles had tried to explain it her. Instead she had thought it was a game, treated him like a child that he hadn’t been since his father had died.

Which was why he had stopped going to adults for help. There was a reason Charles was called a genius, and so he decided it was time to prove it to everyone and to himself. And so this was how he was holed up in the New York public library trying to find an answer for what was happening. His father had been an anthropologist, and so this is where he decided to start.

It was getting dark out, and Charles knew he would have to leave soon to head back home. He and his mother were visiting old friends for the week, and if he wasn’t back soon he knew she would start to worry.

_‘That young boy is so diligent; I wish my Benji was more like him.’_

_‘Given the chance I think I would bend that bitch over and make her take a real man…’_

Thoughts of others kept rattling through his head. Charles recognised that this was not normal, but he didn’t know how to stop it. His grand plan of study seemed almost impossible as snippets of thoughts, feelings, and memories kept drifting through. It hurt, like there was a razorblade inside his skull tearing his brain to shreds. Here, in the public space, it was almost unbearable.

_‘And even HYDRA agents were no match to Captain America, the bravest and most heroic solider of them all, whereabouts currently unknown..’_

_‘This sure is swell, being in a big city like this. Mama did always say that if I studied hard…’_

_‘I will kill that girl.’_

Charles whipped his head out of his book and met the eyes of the man who had “spoken”. He was older, with a five o’clock shadow and filled with malicious intent. Charles met his hazy brown eyes and was suddenly drawn into the memories of this killer’s previous victims.

Charles relived the memory of the last girl he had raped to death and then killed. He relived how this man hunted girls who had foreign boyfriends, believing he was serving his country. Charles felt the mans satisfaction as if it were his own as he was forced to watched the blood drain out of his victims, and then felt the overwhelming need to do it again.

And then it was over. Charles was back in his own body. The man was leaving, to follow the same woman he was thinking about. To rape and murder her. And Charles was the only one who knew anything about it, making it obvious to him that he had to somehow stop him.

Thinking on his feet as he pursued the murderer, Charles decided that notifying the police would not go well for him. There was no clear evidence that this man had done anything. Their bodies of his victims were scattered throughout America, the man made sure not to slip up. All Charles could do was say “I heard him say he had murdered a lot of women with my mind” and they would brush him off as some dumb kid. Or if anyone knew who he was, as some kid who was still grieving for his father and acting out.

Therefore he would have to be smarter. He would have to follow the man, wait until the murderer ( _Craig Thornton_ , whispered a corner of his mind) started to hurt the girl and then call the police, hoping it would be enough.

Craig slipped through the streets, stealthily following his intended prey (Maria White, age 22, had been a nurse in the war and had walked out with an Italian man when she was 17). Charles tried to follow, and when he misstepped or got lost, he would try and search for this man’s sick and twisted mind in order to get on track.

As Charles turned into a now darkened alley, still on the trail on Maria, Charles heard something new. It was like a thousand thoughts at once, a million voices speaking to him, shouting at him mundane everyday things about their lives about their cats and dogs and children and homework and houses and food and love and fathers and mothers, making it too much. Charles stopped dead and clutched his head. It was painful but wouldn’t go away. More than razorblades, there was a whole battalion of explosions and deaths and war cries and heartbeats; this truly was unbearable.

There was a single thought that somehow drowned these out. This time not from Craig, but from someone new, who felt cold and distant. Who was tainted and dark.

_‘This man must die, I have to feed. It just makes sense.’_

Charles lifted his head up, even as it was throbbing. The stray thought was directed at Craig and his actions. The person thinking it was the one who was causing all the pain for Charles. Then the mental anguish stopped, and the frenzy began.

“Oh god, what are you. Stop. Please dear god stop.”

“Your god can’t save you now Craig, just like he didn’t save those women you killed,” the man’s voice (Edward, a man who was over 40 years old and was somehow still 17) said as he drew near. Charles had the displeasure to see him lean and bite Craig. To drink. Him. Dry.

Charles ran out, ignoring the thoughts of ‘ _more more MORE’_ , the pleas of Craig and the overwhelming noise coming from Edward.

“ **STOP**!” Charles shouted at Edward, “please don’t kill anyone!”

Edward, who by this stage had finished, and it made Charles sick to his stomach that he hadn’t done anything before, now even if the man that was now dead had been evil (but who would tell Craig’s mother who was 92 and had no one else bar him?), turned and looked at him directly.

_‘This boy is innocent, don’t give in Edward. Just leave it. Leave him.’_

Charles took one look as his red eyes, and saw it all. Like with Craig, he was sucked in, unable to stop himself. This power, this ability to see all and to know all was scary, more so that just hearing random thoughts. Edward was a vampire. And like him, could hear other peoples’ thoughts.

“I don’t understand,” Edward exclaimed once Charles was back to his normal self. “I haven’t in 30 years met anyone like me.”

Charles was shaking. Craig’s dead eyes were staring up him, and Charles could feel the satisfaction that Edward had felt in feeding from him, and the guilt from actually taking a life.

“And yet yours is so much more that my own,” Edward continued, even though Charles hadn’t spoken. It took him a second to realise that with this vampire he didn’t need to speak.

 _‘Indeed.’_ Edward’s mind was like his body: cold, harsh and somewhat beautiful.

 _‘You didn’t have to kill him,’_ Charles thought hard at him not sure how it should be done, only to see Edward wince. And then when Edward projected back what noise level had been like.

 _‘Oh, sorry,’_ now feeling a little sheepish. That time Charles knew he had spoken quieter, projected better.

 _‘You are not like me,’_ Edward said (or thought at Charles) and Charles shook his head, sending back feelings of uncertainty, before realising that unlike himself, Edward only heard thoughts, not feelings or impressions of memories. And so he tried again.

 _‘I know what you are,’_ he said, _‘but I don’t know what I am. This all began very recently, and I still trying to figure it out.’_

 _‘Ah,’_ Edward sounded amused. _‘I believe the term you will come to use will be mutant.’_

Charles’ face must have registered his displeasure at that notion and Edward hastened to explain.

_‘There are others, much like yourself, who are human bar one trait. These people can do many different things, and like you, often don’t know how of why. Hitler’s scientists believed that you are a new breed of humanity evolving beyond most normal humans. That you all have a mutation that sets you a part from others.’_

_‘Mutant,’_ Charles echoed in his head. This time it didn’t sound as bad. With a pause he heard the noise start up again and clutched his head in agony.

 _‘Why is there so much noise?’_ He asked Edward with great difficulty.

Edward felt saddened by the question, and Charles saw the answer in his memories. The noise was the constant hum of all thoughts around him, even from hundreds of feet away. Charles shuddered, seeing what his future as a telepath would be like. Edward’s thoughts belied his belief that all telepaths have no control, and that the only way he had survived was due to his nature.

 _‘You have no control?’_ Charles was shocked and even more frightened. He saw more, heard more and felt more than Edward; wouldn’t all that drive a human mad?

 _‘In a way I do,’_ Edward’s mind-voice was soothing. _‘I hear them all, but it becomes white-noise unless I focus. My focus can come from having a key word in my head to wanting to hear particular people.’_

 _‘Like the word kill from Craig,’_ Charles supplied and then looked down at the corpse.

 _‘Yes,’_ Edward was remorseful, but somehow pleased that he had saved Maria’s life.

 _‘But that is not control. That hurts. It is painful.’_ Charles began panicking. If this were to be his future, and based off what rate his telepathy was manifesting itself now it seemed likely that it would be, how could he survive?

“I am sorry,” Edward’s voice (his real spoken aloud voice) was gentle. Charles nodded in reply, looking down at his shoes trying not to cry. It was late, and Edward was giving him sympathy when all he needed was a plan. Even though he was a genius, Charles was only 10 years old, making this feel like the end of his world all over again.

“I should kill you as well you know,” Edward was calm, interrupting the dark musings of Charles. “But I don’t think I will.”

Charles looked up to face him. This time, seeing the confliction that killing had brought clearly on Edward’s face.

“You don’t have to kill to feed, I saw that,” Charles remembered from Edward’s memories what Carlisle looked like. He also remembered the fuzzy and hazy memory of Edward’s mother, pleading that Carlisle spare his life. “Your mother didn’t want that for you.”

“And she isn’t here now is she,” Edward snapped, angry and vicious. “Neither is Carlisle so stop thinking about him as well. I kill because he deserved to die.”

“The police-“

“Can’t handle anything properly,” Edward cut him off. “He deserved to die.” And this time it was said with such conviction, that if Charles hadn’t seen Edward’s inner torment he would have believed him.

The noise became louder in the silence. Charles swallowed his fear and tried to ignore it, lowering his head again. Tried to see it as white noise. Tried to let it go. The noise became harsher and harsher, until suddenly it stopped. Charles looked up, knowing that Edward had fled.

He took one last look at Craig, and then turned away feeling ill. Someone else would have to discover him, because Charles needed to get back to his mother.

And as he started to walk back he shuddered at the thought of never ending pain and never ending noise. He thought of how for him, it would be different. It had to be. Otherwise he would be driven insane and then where would his mother be with a man who loved her for her money and step-son who hated her for birthing Charles.

This conviction would remain with him throughout his life, making him want to learn control. Making him seek out the monks in Tibet and finally gaining it. It would also let him help others to strengthen their own convictions.

Charles knew that Edward thought he had scarred him, but the telepath knew that instead Edward had just in part helped to make him into the mutant he was destined to become.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This story randomly came to be... and was written within an hour. It has not been beta'd. However, I have done my research. Canon for X-men is vague and unhelpful. First Class says that Charles was born in 1937, but the comics state he served in the Korean War. We know that Erik was a victim of the Holocaust as a child...so I wanted to have it set somewhere in between. The year is 1947ish.  
> Charles is said to have received his powers either after his fathers death, or after his mothers. Obviously I chose fathers.  
> There is a brief reference to Captain America, because in the X-men comics Charles spent some time fighting HYDRA agents.  
> White-noise is a term that I could not find a coinage date for. However the principles behind it, and the theories that supported it were established well before 1947, so please forgive me if it a little too new.  
> Edward Cullen is in the fic because, well, he had to be. I could see young Charles struggling to cope, not knowing how to control something so scary and new. But he has a genius level intellect and would seek out the information lacking to him. Seeing Edward, with the lack of control and lack of further abilities just made Charles try hard enough to control it. In my eyes at least.
> 
> So yeah please leave a comment?


End file.
